Chapter 118

Violet Flames (2)

The five carriages moved along the road at steady intervals.
At the very front, four cavalrymen split into two teams, alternating between scouting and keeping watch.

Holy knights rode in the first and last carriages.
The second and fourth carried clergy traveling on papal business, along with Bishop Alquin.
Though the poison had been neutralized, Alquin had not fully recovered and required assistance from his attendant priest.

In the central, third carriage sat Isaac, Raphael, Enette, and Beltran.

Enette rubbed her palm, where new skin had begun to form and itch.
She sat quietly, unsure of where she was going or why.

Beside her, Beltran stared blankly into nothing.
He didn’t respond even when Isaac spoke to him, nor did he glance at Enette—the girl he had once admired enough to send a love letter.

For a fifteen-year-old boy, his face carried a complete resignation to life.

“Are you sure it’s fine not to bring an escort knight?”

Raphael, who had been looking out the window, asked suddenly.

“With an inquisitor like you here, what is there to worry about?”

Isaac had sent Carlson back to Vinfelt.
With Botmer capable of attacking again at any moment, leaving things to Besimer alone felt too risky.

Besimer could inspire soldiers as a great warrior, but he lacked skill in logistics, discipline, and command.
Bill, once the leader of Nears, had some sense for numbers, but not enough to control both Besimer and the tribal soldiers.

For Vinfelt’s survival through winter, either Isaac or Carlson needed to remain behind.

“I belong to the Church. If the Church turns hostile toward you, I will have no choice but to do the same.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got Enette.”

At the mention of her name, Enette flinched.

“…Hmm.”

Raphael looked at her with clear skepticism.

“Mage. The baron claims you have faith. Is that true?”
“F-faith…?”

Enette echoed the unfamiliar word and glanced nervously at Isaac.

“Y-yes.”

At Isaac’s nod, she quickly nodded as well.

“I—I was baptized when I was ten… at a cathedral in Bernsi.”
“Oh? And your baptismal name?”
“…Ilidor? Ilido…? I think… something like that…”
“Ilidora?”
“Ah—yes! That was it!”
“…It means ‘light bestowed by God.’ When did you first realize you had divine power?”
“Pardon?”

“Ah, perhaps ‘divine power’ is unfamiliar. Let’s call it light magic.”

Raphael showed intense interest in Enette’s light magic.
For him, it was a matter tied directly to his faith and religious beliefs.

Since their conversation at the inn the previous night, he had clearly been trying to test her faith.
Though he would never get the answer he wanted.

‘So it started around this time…’

Leaving the flustered Enette alone, Isaac recalled a chapter from Religious History he had read in the distant future.

If his memory was correct, it would begin this winter.

Strange events would start occurring in the Papal State.

High-ranking clergy would suddenly burn to death—
bishops, archbishops, even cardinals.
Even Monsignor, renowned for his lifelong devotion, would not be spared.

All the deaths were the same.

Without warning, flames would erupt from their bodies.
They were nowhere near fire, and there was no cause for ignition.

Some burned while performing sacraments.
Some while preaching.
Some while consecrating.
Some while welcoming imperial envoys.

Once the fire began, no one survived.

No matter what was done, it would not go out.
Amid horrific screams, their bodies would melt away in moments.

Witnesses spoke of one thing in common—
the color of the flames.

Even with their eyes closed, they could still see it.
A dreadful, blazing violet.

The flames burned nothing else—
only the victim’s body—
and vanished as if they had never existed.

In other words, they would not extinguish until the body was completely consumed.

***

At first, the Papal authorities dismissed the incidents as accidents or dressed them up with convenient explanations—
carelessness with candles, or that God had called them early due to their deep faith.

But those who witnessed the agony could not accept that.
If God had called them, He would not have taken them in such suffering.

So the Papal State presented a new claim:

It was the work of heretical mages.

Many mages present in the Papal State at the time were arrested and taken to underground interrogation chambers.
Some confessed to crimes they hadn’t committed under torture; others died.

Eventually, the Church declared it the work of evil mages.

But that claim did not last.

Investigators later discovered a common trait among the victims—
every single one had abused their position in God’s name.

Those who engaged in simony,
those who sold indulgences for wealth,
those who committed sexual exploitation,
those who embezzled church funds,
those who led armies and massacred people for political gain.

Over that winter, eleven clergy were reduced to ash.
Six innocent mages died in the religious trials.

And dozens more were arrested.

“I’ve heard interrogations of mages are being carried out on a large scale in the Papal State.”

“I—I’m heading there right now…”

“It’s said there are already five victims. If another appears after your arrival, you won’t escape suspicion. Be careful, mage. The Cardinal may not wish for innocent blood, but no one knows how events may spiral.”

Raphael’s words had shifted naturally to the incidents in the Papal State.

“This is not a good time for you to visit. The heir of a magic family and his personal mage…”

“I see.”

Isaac nodded calmly.

In truth, for him, there could be no better timing.
There was something he intended to obtain from the Cardinal through this very incident—
and it went beyond simply exposing Botmer’s crimes.

“I don’t know why you wish to meet the Cardinal, but you should be cautious as well.”

“Surely even someone like me, who can’t use magic, won’t get caught up in it?”

Isaac joked lightly despite Raphael’s warning.

“We’re finished, young master…”

Enette whimpered, clutching her head.

Iron shackles made of demetridium bound her wrists—
and Isaac wore the same.

The air was damp, thick with mold, urine, and rot.

A narrow corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by torches.
On either side, skeletal prisoners watched from behind iron bars—
their eyes empty and unfocused.

Aaaah—

Screams echoed intermittently, like hallucinations.
It was impossible to tell whether they were male or female.

The clanking of chains, crackling of fire, ragged breathing, sniffling, and indistinct prayers filled the air.

“Inside.”

A guard shoved Isaac and Enette into an empty cell.

The walls were stained with old blood.
Chains lay scattered across the floor.

Clang—

The bars slammed shut.

“Ugh…”

Enette recoiled in disgust.

They were not alone in the cell.
Even at a glance, rats, cockroaches, and maggots crawled into view—
drawn by the waste and scraps left behind by the previous prisoner.

Enette froze in horror at the sight.
She couldn’t lean against the wall or sit on the floor, standing stiffly in place.

Back in Goethe, the cold climate meant rats and insects rarely appeared.
She had never experienced anything this filthy.

“Feels… familiar, somehow.”

Meanwhile, Isaac casually sat down on the floor.
Compared to the underground vault where he had spent decades, this wasn’t particularly bad.

“What are you doing? Sit down. Your legs will hurt if you keep standing.”
“Y-you’re really okay, young master? You have a plan, right? Right? I won’t… end up like that, will I?”

Enette, who had never once questioned Isaac before and had always followed his words obediently, now had trembling eyes.

On the way here, she had witnessed a mage being burned at the stake for heresy.

***

“I will vouch for your identities, so don’t worry.”

At least, when Raphael had said that, things still felt safe.

The Papal State had seemed like a place worth seeing.

Pilgrims walked dusty roads toward the capital, carrying banners depicting saints.
Papal soldiers in gleaming armor stood guard.
Grand plazas of white marble and majestic cathedrals built upon restored ancient ruins filled the city.

It was a place that seemed to contain the history of both gods and men—
a sight that inspired awe.

And the cathedral…

Golden-decorated marble pillars, ceilings so high they seemed endless, grand arches,
massive tapestries illustrating scenes from scripture,
religious paintings covering the ceiling,
sunlight filtering through stained-glass rose windows,
chandeliers, statues, altars, the faint scent of myrrh, echoing hymns…

It felt less like a human space and more like a realm where gods and men coexisted.

For a moment, Enette forgot even how to breathe.
Isaac, seeing such a scene for the first time outside of books, even found himself wondering if gods truly existed.

It was enough to awaken faith where none had existed.

***

But the moment didn’t last.

Raphael began speaking urgently with another clergyman.
At first, it seemed like a simple procedural matter—but the conversation dragged on, and the man’s expression hardened.

From the uneasy glances around them, Isaac and Enette sensed something was wrong.

Soon, holy knights approached and surrounded them.

“By order of the Inquisition, all mages and anyone associated with them are to be detained.”
“These individuals have come to meet Cardinal Vincenzio. Forcibly detaining visitors without charges violates procedure.”

Raphael protested, but the clergy did not even blink.

“You know well—the Tribunal’s orders are absolute, Inquisitor.”

There was some argument, but Raphael had no choice.
As a member of the Inquisition, he could not defy its command.

“The situation is worse than expected. It may take some time. But if you wait, I will ensure you meet the Cardinal.”

With that promise, Isaac and Enette were dragged from the cathedral’s sanctuary to the underground prison of the Inquisition.

***

How many days had passed in darkness, stench, and screams?

At first, Enette refused to touch the walls or floor—
but at some point, she collapsed onto the ground.

Now, even when rats or cockroaches passed right in front of her, she only flinched slightly.
She no longer reacted in panic.

Time had worn her down.

Food was barely enough to keep them alive—
black bread and water.
It felt like they were given once a day.

“Eight meals… so about eight days, maybe.”

“…Are we going to die?”

Enette spoke in a resigned voice.

The environment had changed her quickly.
At first, she had trembled at the thought of relieving herself in the wooden bucket in the corner—
but now, she did so without hesitation, using the darkness as cover.

“Could you not say that while sitting on the bucket?”
“There’s nothing left to come out anyway…”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
“Even if I die… I won’t resent you, young master.”

Isaac watched a cockroach crawl across the floor.
Well-fed, it was plump, its dark shell glistening.

“Longer than I expected.”

After wearing iron shackles for so long, his wrists had gone numb.
He hadn’t been eating properly, yet his body felt heavy, and his mind sluggish.

But through the senses of the Wolf King, Isaac had been tracking everything outside without fail.

‘Tonight, then.’

He had predicted it.
And he was right.

Whether it was night or day, no one could tell—but Enette fell asleep at regular intervals.
The prison was silent like a grave.

Some prisoners were dragged away and never returned.

Then—

Footsteps, carefully muffled, approached Isaac’s cell.

“Are you the Baron of Vinfelt?”

A man in a deep hood spoke, his voice aged with time.

“I am.”

“What reason brought you here of all places?”

“I know the culprit behind the violet flames.”

“…Who is it?”

“Would you come a little closer?”

The man stepped toward the bars.
A pale jaw became visible beneath the hood.

“It’s you. Cardinal Vincenzio.”

Isaac whispered.